


Concerning Sweden and his parents

by bunnyfication



Category: Axis Powers Hetalia
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-05
Updated: 2009-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyfication/pseuds/bunnyfication
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was no such country as Sweden, in fact, there were hardly countries there at all, not in the way they're meant today. Whatever one calls them, two of these were Svitjod and Götland.<br/>The stories here are short snippets from along the centuries, both about them and young Sweden and Finland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concerning Sweden and his parents

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://taiyou-to-tsuki.livejournal.com/profile)[**taiyou_to_tsuki**](http://taiyou-to-tsuki.livejournal.com/) did as much as myself in inventing the characters Svitjod and Götland (Sweden's parent nations in this verse), more info about them at the end of the work.  
>  O.P: June 20, 2009[](http://taiyou-to-tsuki.livejournal.com/profile)[ **taiyou_to_tsuki**](http://taiyou-to-tsuki.livejournal.com/) wrote a fic I feel should be linked here too: [link!](http://taiyou-to-tsuki.livejournal.com/109188.html) It's awesome. :3  
>  ~*~

  
  
[   
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**I Could Bring You Gold**

  
Götland stared at the trampled field ahead of him. There went the work of the last couple of months then. He could only hope the turnips would grow well this year at least

Finally he raised his eyes from the sad sight of ruined wheat stalks. Almost ready, damn it.

He wasn't alone on the field, Götland realized. A young woman in dark clothes, her hair glinting like gold in the sunlight, at least where it wasn't matted with blood.

"Svitjod!" Götland called out, almost surprised himself at the anger in his voice.

She turned slowly and regally, looking at him dismissively.

"What?"

"Ruined m' field," Götland growled.

Svitjod shrugged slightly.

"Too bad. Tell that to the one who started the fight."

Götland didn't know what his expression was like, but Svitjod's eyes narrowed, and she raised the sword she was carrying.

"Unless you want to pick a fight, eh?"

For once truly mad, Götland raised the heavy cane he was carrying, and they started circling each other. He noticed at once that Svitjod was looking rather tired and pale. When she raised her sword, even he could tell it was too slow, and left an opening a mile wide.

He lowered his cane.

"Look, ya ain't fit for no fighting." He told her.

Svitjod blinked, and then some color rose onto her white cheeks.

"I'll show you who's fit--"

Götland merely meant to stop her, but as he prodded Svitjod's torso with his cane, she suddenly paled even more and then toppled over.

He stared at the woman lying among the crumpled wheat, and then crouched down to check whether she was still alive. She was, but showed no signs of regaining conciousness anytime soon.

He looked around, but couldn't see any of her people around either.

He could just walk away. Then again, in that case he might have to clear a corpse from his best field in the future. Hn.

Götland sighed and picked up the other,careful of the place that had caused her collapse. A broken rib probably, because there wasn't any blood there.

*

Later, once Svitjod had mostly recovered, he asked her why she'd been there alone. Svitjod glanzed at him from the corner of her bright blue eyes, seeming to consider what to answer.

"Because...I didn't wish my people to see me wounded," she said at last, eyes glued to something in the distance.

"Oh," Götland answered, not having anything else to say.

"I suppose...it really was too bad about the field. Damn Danes." Svitjod muttered, which was as close as she'd get to an apology, Götland supposed.

"I'll try 'gain n'xt ye'r," he said.

*

"Un'on?"

Svitjod frowned at him, looking away from the ship being repaired.

"Didn't the envoy make themselves clear? I was thinking that since we have common interests, it would be...convenient. Right?"

Götland looked into those jewel bright eyes. Bright, and just as cold in a fight, he imagined. He supposed she would be a good ally, for those occasions when he couldn't talk his way out of a disagreement.

"So, do we have a deal?" Svitjod asked.

Götland considered for a moment, and then nodded.

"Yes."

~*~

 **Or Cloth As Dark As the Night**

  
"Wh't...Svitjod, what 're ya-"

"Shut up. And stop squirming." Svitjod hissed, climbing onto her husband.

Götland tried to push her away sleepily, but she simply leaned on him more firmly, tightening the hold on his wrists until he made a small noise of protest.

It was quite dark in the room, only the barest hint of moonlight filtering in through a distant, small window. Götland's dark blue eyes were entirely black, his face, as far as Svitjod could see, showing mild exasperation.

Always so mild, Götland. Not a shred of battle spirit in him. But then again, wasn't that why he'd married her, so that she'd make the others leave him alone. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, to the both of them.

"Really Svitjod, what're ya doing?" Götland asked, in his soft voice.

"Sex, humans seem to think it's fun, and I'm bored." Svitjod whispered.

Götland frowned.

"...thought ya didn't care for m' like that?"

Svitjod cuffed him, though not too hard, him being as soft as he was.

"That doesn't matter! You're my husband, so it's something we should be doing anyways."

He stared at her again, and then sighed resignedly.

"Okay, fine. If you say so."

But in the end, he wasn't _that_ reluctant, she thought later. It had the taste of victory.

~*~

 **From Over the Sea**

  
Svitjod flung open the door, letting in a gust of cold into the room. There was snow on her heavy cape, and her cheeks were still glowing from the bite of the wind.

She frowned as she saw the young boy lying in bed, his cheeks pale and waxen. Her boots thumped onto the floor angrily as Svitjod strode across the floor, putting one calloused hand on his forehead. The barest flicker of worry that had passed her face dissolved into frustration.

"Well, at least the fever has gone down..." Svitjod mumbled, starting to pace the floor.

"Now, if you could try to get better by this spring, I'd like you with me on the boat, whatever Götland has to say about it. It's high time for you to see the world a bit, if you want to grow up into a strong man...Sweriki, are you listening?"

"Yes m'." The boy mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"Stop that!" Svitjod snapped, slapping his hand away.

The boy squinted at her with watery, badly focused blue eyes.

" 'urts," he complained, and Svitjod sighed.

"Your eyes bothering you again? I'll...ask the healer, maybe she has something. Not letting those damn priest and their smelly smoke near you again," the last was spoken more to herself than the sick child, who leaned back onto his pillow.

Sweriki was glad, the fragrant smoke had only made him feel worse, heightening the near constant headache. His mother's frequent rants about how he'd feel better if he got some proper sea air into his lungs didn't help much either, actually.

He'd been on a boat a few times before, and it was always...unpleasant. The smells and the moving deck made him feel sick, and he feared he'd accidentally fall off or something.

Yes, there she went again. Sweriki wished he could live with his father instead, at least he never yelled at him. Didn't say much of anything, really, but somehow they still seemed to understand each other much better than he and his mother ever did.

"And I've told Götland that he must not coddle you so much or I won't...hey, watch out, you!"

The last was to a servant Svitjod had nearly ran into in her pacing. The boy winced as some hot soup splashed onto his hand, biting his lip to stiffle a yelp of pain, and then lowered his head politely.

"Sorry, lady." He whispered, and went on to take the plate to Sweriki. Svitjod gave him a long look, her eyes narrowed.

"Where did you come from anyway?" she asked sulkily. The servant boy had a strange accent she couldn't place, but he didn't seem that foreign looking either. Besides, she'd just realized it wasn't a human child, but one of them.

"From behind the sea, lady." The boy mumbled into the bowl, his face flushing at the sudden scrutiny.

"Ah." Svitjod could place him now. It was the youngest of the ones living there in that particular area, of the ones with the funny language. They'd seemed to be fighting for him, so she'd decided he might be valuable somehow. But really...the boy didn't look like much.

She observed as he finished feeding the soup to her son and went to fetch water to wash the floor, carrying the heavy bucket with apparent ease. If only Sweriki was as strong.

Svitjod patted her son on the shoulder, so hard he winced a bit.

"Get better, you hear me. A man has no time to lie about in a bed all day."

" 'es m' "

~*~

[   
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**But a Trusty Friend Is Never Bought**

  
He was going to go to his father, even if he had to walk the whole way, Sweriki thought as he walked angrily through the forest. Nothing ever seemed good enough for his mother, nothing!

He'd show her yet, he'd become strong and brave just like she wanted him to, but...Sweriki stopped walking, trying to keep back the tears that suddenly swelled up. He would not cry, that was weak as well.

He looked around, suddenly wondering why the ground seemed so uneven. He'd been following a trail, but now he couldn't see it anymore, just the vague green of an unbroken forest floor.

He turned around, but couldn't see anything like the brown color of the trail in his blurred sight. He rubbed at his eyes, but it hardly helped.

Sweriki froze as there was a strange, low sound. Something like a growl, only not of any animal that he'd ever heard. He'd walked for a while, and this deep in the forest...it could be anything. A lindorn?

He was startled as a hand fell on his shoulder, but the other shushed him hurriedly.

"Be quiet!" he whispered. Sweriki recognized the voice as that of a particular servant. He was almost the same age, and seemed really nice.

"It's a bear, and it's coming this way. We can't run from it, but if we lie down and are really still, it...might not hurt us." the other boy whispered to him.

Sweriki followed his example, and laid down onto the mossy forest floor. As if from an unvoiced agreement, they reached for each other, curling together.

Sweriki closed his eyes as he heard the animal step closer, the earth seeming to shake under heavy feet. No, it wasn't the earth, he was shaking himself, though he only realized it as the other stroked his back minutely. That stopped his shaking, oddly enough.

The bear got closer and closer, twigs snapping under it's paws, and it's breathing loud in the suddenly quiet forest. Sweriki's heart was beating loudly, as if it was trying to escape, as he felt damp breath on his cheek, and the smell of the large animal all around him, almost suffocatingly strong.

For a moment he was certain he'd feel teeth sinking into his side next, and then the bear made a huffing sound, strangely similar to the one his mother made when especially angry, and seemed to decide him uninteresting, for it ambled on.

They lay there, absolutely still for a long time afterwards, and then opened their eyes, staring at each other, as if suprised to still be alive. This close, even Sweriki could see the boy's face, his large blue eyes, which crinkled as he smiled suddenly.

"We made it!" He said, still whispering, though the bear must have been far away already.

Sweriki just nodded, not trusting his tongue to form any words.

He reminded himself he should ask what the other boy's name was.

~*~

 **And Time Cannot Be Bribed to Linger**

  
Svitjod sat morosely at Götland's table, picking at a strand of silver in her golden hair. There were faint lines on her face, he realized with a start. They were grooves dug by irritation, from her near constant frown these days, and he sighed inwardly.

Svitjod had always wanted to seize the world, the day and anything else gleaming that struck her fancy. And if it wasn't freely given, all the better.

She'd never quite understood his way, why he bothered to sink his hands into the earth of his homeland for a livelyhood. Why he'd rather talk his way out of an argument, despite knowing how to use the sword in a pinch.

Götland glanced out of the window, where his son was cutting the firewood. He was currently wiping his forehead, leaning the dull axe against the ground.

He'd grown up into a fine young man, Götland thought with a smile. He'd worried for him...they both had, as reluctant as Svitjod was to admit it. He'd been such a weak, sickly child. Then again, few were born strong, even of ones such as they were.

That was another thing Svitjod had found hard to understand. That children needed time, and patience. Even now he sometimes wondered if she hadn't raised their son up too fast.

He'd always been quiet, but these days even Götland was not always certain what was going on behind that blank face.

Then again, Götland thought as he rubbed at his aching shoulder, him and Svitjod wouldn't be around forever, so perhaps it was best this way.

Another figure came into the picture, a young man carrying more logs. What was his name again? Finne or something like that. He seemed a nice boy, and Götland was sure the two of them would become good friends when they stopped circling each other like two spooked cats.

"It aint good being 'lone in this world," he thought aloud.

Svitjod looked up, startled from her sulk.

"Huh?"

Götland gave her a considering look.

"Next time ya go travel'ing, want some company?" He asked.

She looked at him dubiously, and then her eyes widened, and she laughed, a crowing sound.

"Well, why the hell not. But no complaining if it's too rowdy for you where we're going..."

~*~

 **Omake**

  
"Oy, you...whatever your name is. Take these."

Svitjod dumped a pile of fine clothes into the arms of the young man, who could only gape at her. She gave him a withering glare in return.

"You're going to the court with my son aren't you? Can't dress in any old rags there, servant or not. So wear those and make sure not to embarrass Sweriki, you hear me?"

"Yes, Lady Svitjod. I will."

She smirked crookedly at him, leaning down to pat him hard on the shoulder.

"Good. And remember, if I hear you have abandoned him, I **will** find you, no matter what."

"...un. Yes ma'am."

**Author's Note:**

>  **Info** :  
> Götland and Svitjod probably appeared sometime in the 400s, and ~~got married~~ started working together sometime between the 500s and 1164, when it's recorded that they shared a king.
> 
> Sweden, or Sweriki, was born sometime in the 1100s as well, but he was sickly and weak for a long time. His parents disappeared sometime after 1300, while he was busy with the Kalmar Union.
> 
> Svitjod's lands were approcimately in Mälardalen (the are around Mälaren), Uppland, Gästrikland, and eastern Dalarna, and Götland's in the provinces of Väster- and Östergötland. ([Map of the provinces of Sweden](http://www.algonet.se/~hogman/swe_provinces_map_eng.htm))
> 
> Oh, and Götland was mostly into farming, whereas Svitjod practiced more viking-ing (She's the one Sweden inherited his ~~scary~~ looks from, as it happens, whereas his personality is perhaps more like Götland's). Incidentally, [here's a useful page](http://www.hurstwic.org/history/articles/daily_living/text/clothing.htm) if you happen to be interested in old Norse clothing.


End file.
